I watched her parted lips. They said enough
And nothing more. I would have been content
With happiness; I would have borne at large

The baby’s-breath that tucked a faded rose
Between its gauzy stems. A place where wood
And stone could fit together, a cognate

Of aspen (our favorite rendezvous)
And granite (worldly, but not of this world).
Someplace that found and fleshed us out and we

Delighted, being found. A little ground
Within a forest clearing, lamed by pleasure –
An April sunbeam’s doubled-bladed shaft.

It would have been such deepening of light,
Its richness ran to darkness as a friend,
And stars would hate to see it go away

When winter swept the constellations from
The northern sky. Some ground, I say, we’d find
If only she would say, if only speak.

I watched her parted lips. They said, “Not here.”


  1. Anywhere but on the lips.

    Good work JOB.

  2. Jonathan Webb says

    Good work, indeed.

  3. I’ll read this one aloud for you! It is beautiful…

  4. I rather like “its richness ran to darkness as a friend.”

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